Tag Archive for 'short cuts'

Short Cuts: Jon Connor’s Season 2

Jeff Laughlin, January 31, 2012 in Music Reviews. 2 Comments Tags: , , .

The whole format of mixtapes is certifiably insane. In preparation for an album or to announce their presence “in the game”, rappers release 25-song extended teasers for free. Rappers record albums to celebrate albums and arrivals. In Jon Connor’s case, this is his 2nd arrival.  Apparently, this matters more than we know. He’s angry at labels for wanting him to be different, critics because they don’t like how different he is, and the world for being terrible to him. Connor is an outstanding rapper with an insane flow who does not get enough credit. On some other shit, we have to ban together and stop him from rapping until he picks better beats. To be critical is to hate, so here it is: I hate these beats.

Let’s put it this way: if you use Jon Connor in a mashup, you’d have to make a new, good beat and start from scratch. He’s basically rapping over mashup material, like, it’s a pre-mashup. “Inside of You” is possibly the creepiest hook ever. “Place on Earth” is literally– and I mean the literal interpretation of literally– The Bangles’ song “Heaven is a Place on Earth” with him rapping over it. Seriously. And Connor goes in. He’s killing every song even though some of these songs are killing him. It’s not only that he’s too good for this, not only that he suffers from “every song gets released” diseases, it’s that I feel like I can hear him wincing his way through these watercolor producers. Dude’s an artist, he needs a proper canvas. This shit is parchment, my man needs some walls for murals.

There would be no bad if it weren’t for the good, obviously. “No Apologies,” “No Thrillz,” “The Boom Bap Symphony,” “Gonna Make It” (f/ Freeway) and others show how good Connor is when he gets proper production work. It’s few and far between, but when Connor clicks, it’s magic. Busta says it after the opening track “Someone Like Me”: ‘Ya’ll better get ya’ll bars right.” Busta is wise and Busta is right. If Connor figures out the balance, he will crush the game. He’s hungry, angry and good. That’s a big deal. The best combination of soulful, talented and conditioned to destroy beats, Connor could stand out, but he may have to stand on a pile of rejected beats to get there. I’m waiting impatiently for the time to come.

Short Cuts: Toro Y Moi’s Underneath the Pine

Matt T., March 1, 2011 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , , .

underneath

After successfully riding chillwaves on his debut album, Toro y Moi moved out of the bedroom and into the studio with a full band.  The most noticeable change is the addition of bass, which vacillates from a funky 70s disco sound to a moody anchoring presence on the ballads.  Swelling strings, and the squeak of fingers moving up a fretboard on an acoustic guitar add a new layer of emotional weight to the songs, adding a warmth not available previously.

The new fuller sound is an excellent contrast to the Chaz’s weightess vocals.  His lyrics float above the lush soundscape he has created.  At first listen the album is beautiful, but the deeper you listen, the more you realize despite the beautiful sounds the record is riddled with anxiety. Underneath the Pine is an expression referring to death and, more specifically, burial. However, Toro y Moi cleverly uses a pine as a secondary meaning.  Chaz is pining for ‘Elise’ and voices his anxiety over their relationship. He offers to leave friends behind but then thinks he may be done before he is done.  The juxtaposition between the chilled out, funky instrumentation and the anxiety-ridden lyrics is a perfect metaphor for the uneasiness of life.

Short Cuts: Glasser’s Ring

Jeff Laughlin, October 15, 2010 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

Glasser have made an accessible and often fantastic album. Ring often undulates and flourishes simultaneously. The songs are full, lush and vocal heavy with methodical repetition. They also wear on me after awhile. If it’s possible to hear an album and be subliminally confident in how good it is without wanting to hear it, this is that album. This is accomplished songwriting, beautifully really, yet I am kind of happy to set it aside for awhile.

In fact, if I could write a letter to Ring, it would be business-like, short and tight.

Dear Glasser’s Ring,

Thanks for accidentally ending up in my hands.  I can’t tell you how excited I am to hear a new, creative voice within your electronic/dream-pop genre. I hope you continue to strive for excellence.

Yours Truly,

Jeff Laughlin/10Listens.com

It’s not often I want to write a letter to a band, and it is even less often I am left speechless when trying to write about one.  So, Glasser, this is a Pyrrhic victory.  I can’t figure out a way to talk about you, and it’s not your fault I’m so disinterested. You wrote a damn fine album and I hope a bunch of people hear it and review it way better than this cop-out.

Damn, now that’s two letters to Glasser. I’ll stop here, but only because I am starting to feel like maybe I shouldn’t write about an album I can’t grasp anyway. THIS REVIEW DOES NOT EXIST. THIS REVIEW WILL SELF DESTRUCT. SWIRLS OF VOCAL NOISE, OFF-KILTER AFRICAN-STYLE BEATS, PRETTY DISSONANT INSTRUMENTATION. EXPLOSION IMMINENT.

Short Cuts: Kris Gruen’s Part Of It All

Julian, April 20, 2010 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

Hailing from Vermont doesn’t necessarily get a lot of respect in the music world, but being the son of Bob Gruen, one of the most well known music photographers, certainly does. Bob has captured everyone from Dylan and Lennon to The Pistols and The Clash. He witnessed the birth of rock and the slow demise and got it on film. So how exactly do you follow in those footsteps? You don’t. So you play guitar instead.

Part of It All, Kris Gruen’s sophomore release, begins as a bright Sunday morning skipping through a park on a relaxing summer day. The sun is shining high and the only thing weighing you down is a tote full of smiles. You prance through the grass, sing with the birds, and hang out under trees. But when you finally get lost in the tired imagery and can’t remember how to get home, the day becomes a trying task of survival. You need a sense of direction to find where you want to go, which is exactly what Kris Gruen seems to be missing on this album.

The minimal instrumentation is too often not enough, the harmonies appear far out of place, and the moments that seem fairly strong and likeable, are hardly worth waiting for. Harshness aside, I would be slightly curious as to how these songs might sound in a more intimate atmosphere. Perhaps, a dark coffee bar or a lonely Subway car, but any place to instill the raw thought of realism back into this material. Because on record, the songs just seem too empty. Ultimately, Part of It All is a ripe synecdoche that never quite decides what it is a part of.

Short Cuts: Statik Selektah’s 100 Proof, The Hangover

Jeff Laughlin, April 15, 2010 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

Wait, wait.  A Hip-hop album without Wu involved? On 10Listens? I know what you are thinking… it’s impossible.  Just because it has never happened, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

That said, it’s hard to listen to a rap album ten times in a short amount of time.  It is for me, at least.  Hip-hop gets into me and forces my hand to tremble at the thought of doing anything more than analyzing the words.  Albums of people talking to you, rhythmically, are hard to write or talk over.  They pause my motion and demand my full attention.

This can be good, but it can also destroy an album’s credibility quickly.  I can get very tired of cliches: you own guns, you fuck women, you have money, you sell drugs, you have killed people.  Established.  Got it.  How clever can you be in delivering those ideas to me, and can you be talented while driving the point home?  And this is to say nothing of the beats.

All that said, Statik Selektah delivers on his beats.  Whether the rapper is as gruff and explicit as Freeway (his pornographic verses actually caused me to shutter at points) or as smooth as Talib Kweli’s (one of his best verses in years is on here), Statik kills it with consistency.  Nothing makeshift exists on this album– everything is well thought out and crafted with the artist in mind and the listener in tow.

The artists kill it too for the most part.  I can’t complain often, despite the brashness and repetition of coke-rap and kills shots.  To be perfectly honest, I like that shit when it is done well.  This album has clever rhymes, good flows, and ill beats.  What the hell else am I looking for?  Cop it.  Maybe by the time you do, I will have found another rap album to obsess over.  And, hell, maybe even review.

Short Cuts: Dr. Dog’s Shame, Shame

Jeff Laughlin, March 30, 2010 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

The end result of frivolity is always negative in the movies and fables.  It’s unfortunate, really.  It’s almost as if an early lifetime of fun is a predestined journey: years of good times with a tragic fall from grace.  I’m planning my fall from grace for 2017, if you must know.  I’m actually pretty excited. Much more excited than I was before I heard this record.

See, I had assumed that Dr. Dog had begun their fall from grace long ago.  I also assumed I was going to dislike this album.  Thus, I again learn that assumptions are for suckers.  Shame, Shame is a fun ride through a series of influential sounds of the 60s and 70s with hints of originality sprinkled into it.  Marginal and terrifically recorded are often not complimentary to each other, but Dr. Dog is no ordinary band, apparently.

An ordinary band would have exhausted this sound long ago and fallen in love with the image side of rock records.  Isn’t that what undid so many good bands? The idea that they were bigger than music; bigger than their previous ideals?  It’s either that or exhaust their ideas in one, maybe one-and-a-half records.  Dr. Dog has proven they are not out of ideas and willing to continue writing solid songs that are neither over-the-top/aggrandized or overtly keen on anything but their own multi-faceted abilities.  Often, the explosion of instruments is enough to overpower awkwardly simple lyrics and well-tread song material.

In fact, they prove an old theory: it doesn’t matter how simple something is when made, so long as it is made passionately.  For awhile, I thought Dr. Dog had lost that quality.  Now, I realize I actually might have.  I never would have given this a shot if not for writing for this site, and now I have more good music to hang out with while hungover for it.  I can’t ask for much more than that. I get the feeling after hearing Shame, Shame Dr. Dog would have it no other way.

Short Cuts: Do Make Say Think’s Other Truths

Jeff Laughlin, March 23, 2010 in Music Reviews. 3 Comments Tags: , , .

The mistakes pile up and skitter about on gravel driveways; the amount of space between houses is so… much.  From the train to the houses to the next houses and the dogs yapping, it’s all so… much.  If we learn truth, then what of the mistakes?

Yes, what do we believe in?  The strength of will? Of the blood being forced through our veins?  The mistakes themselves?  No, we believe in the power of four “long” songs building and breaking like a cleared out plot of land.  You see, they took down all of that forest before the housing bubble burst and now the trees gotta regrow.  No money to build the made plans.  This is New Bern, NC at its finest.  This is Do Make Say Think at their finest.  The pretty landscapes and the gritty downtrodden homes with decaying roofs, this is all so barren and filled at the same time.  They built a new strip mall and none of it sells.  None of it.

They built Other Truths out of the rust, the winter hymns, the landlords with untenable buildings on their hands and they created a masterpiece.  As it happens, I am here as a testament to it all and I couldn’t be happier.  The mistakes of our past can be balled into our artistic projects to be spit on and cried over but not before we really fall into line and listen.  If we are all surviving to spite ourselves, at least we have this album as an  artifact.  Even the unclaimed South can be torn down to rebuild and even our fathers can breathe easier with Do Make Say Think as our mental hospital.  They are the truth.

Short Cuts: Fang Island

Joe O'Brien, February 25, 2010 in Music Reviews. 2 Comments Tags: , .

Fang Island kicks off their self-titled full-length debut with both literal and figurative fireworks, and by the end of it they sound like they’re headed toward some kind of rock n’ roll promised land. The big problem is the journey in the middle- I just couldn’t find enough musical or emotional hooks along the way to get very attached to it.

I wanted to love this album. The band seems like they’ve absorbed valuable lessons from a couple of my favorite records (Andrew W.K.’s I Get Wet, Green Day’s American Idiot), particularly the art of mixing punk, prog and stadium rawk with Pentecostal fervor. Apparently, though, Fang Island simply didn’t care to learn much about the songwriting fundamentals that make those other two records so great.

Of course, not every album needs to know how to write potential hit singles to succeed, especially if it doesn’t necessarily want to be some other band’s album. In the end, Fang Island just wants to be Fang Island. I can dig that, and I’m glad this band exists.  But even so, Fang Island practically cries out for more structure and the consistent presence of a lead singer.  The more I listened, the less I heard it as a fun mostly-instrumental record with occasional outbursts of singing, and the more I heard a record that could have been great if someone hadn’t accidentally deleted the lead vocal tracks.

The band certainly has chops. Once in a while, they’ll whip out a killer riff or a high-wire transition that really shakes my blood, but those moments are dwarfed by the melody-starved spaces in between. Even the roller-coaster dynamics become less enjoyable as the album goes on, as the rises and falls grow increasingly predictable. If you were to graph the intensity levels of Fang Island over its running time, it would probably resemble a string of uniform upper-case Ms.

To Fang Island’s benefit, songwriting is a craft that a young band can hone, and the enthusiasm which they already possess in spades is something that can’t be taught. I may not have fallen for their debut, but I’ll keep an ear out for what they’ll do next. If they ever try to write their own “Carry On Wayward Son,” it’ll be downright dynamite.

Short Cuts: Charlotte Gainsbourg’s IRM

Joe O'Brien, January 25, 2010 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

Given her award-winning and hyper-passionate performance in last year’s Antichrist, I expected a little more feeling from Charlotte Gainsbourg on her latest record, IRM.  Then on second thought, I figured it makes perfect sense for an actress who just starred in a Lars Von Trier film to retreat into a womb-like world of whispered emotions and detached eroticism.

Of course, an album with such subdued vocals and modest pop melodies needs a good producer to keep the audience stimulated, and IRM is fortunate enough to feature some inspired work by the inimitable Beck.  Most of the time, he surrounds Ms. Gainsbourg with gentle acoustic guitars, simple piano chords and throbbing bass drums, creating the sensation of a lover absentmindedly caressing your skin as pent-up lust pulsates through her veins.  Sometimes he has fun inserting his uber-European muse into extremely American genres, like in the White Stripes-lite blues rocker “Trick Pony,” or the horse-walkin’ country of “Dandelion.”  On a few tracks he also seems to get a kick out of suffusing the atmosphere with haunted bordello orchestras, as if to remind us that the lovely lady singing was the very same child conceived by Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin during the magical Melody Nelson sessions.

Most of IRM is pleasantly sensual, tailor-made for heavy petting on a quiet Sunday afternoon.  A couple of songs (the nasal “Greenwich Mean Time” and the lyrically clunky title track) are almost annoying enough to belong in iPod commercials, but they’re kind of redeemed by their playfully mechanical productions.  And though the record often drifts awfully close to aloofness, it does contain one must-own instant classic that justifies its existence: the bouncy, brassy “Heaven Can Wait,” where Beck drops in for a duet and helps lay down a tune worthy of The Kinks’ late-’60s golden age.  For those 2 minutes and 41 seconds, purgatory has rarely felt so alluring.

Short Cuts: The Wooden Birds’ Magnolia

Jeff Laughlin, December 23, 2009 in Music Reviews. 0 Comments Tags: , , .

Time has been harsh on all of us whether we want to admit it or not.  The past is, at best, a disheartening trial and error process gone horribly awry at the exact wrong moments.  This woman or man at this exact point is but an idea, and as a friend at work told me recently, “We’ll all turn to dust anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”  What a boring thought, then, the past. The Wooden Birds have a past.  Look them up on the interwebs and learn that past.  For me, this is an album that arrived in my hands months after it debuted, but has had a wonderful effect on me, their past projects be damned.  They are the proof of a world where style is substance; where lyrics that are mere representations of other lyrics make sense, fit perfectly and craft a world that does not need to matter.  Magnolia is an album of repetition and it spills over itself with no overwhelming leaps.  Magnolia is a good album that relies on the specific talents of The Wooden Birds and asks nothing more of the listener than to let style serve its purpose. Analyzing is for the weak, we are all mired in our past, forward thinking is for the (wooden) birds.  Take the face value once in a while and maybe, just maybe, you can grieve less on your petty failings and just look out the window and smile at humanity.  If we are to die, then let “Choke,” “Hailey” and “Sugar” be our funeral marches.  This album is a bloodless non-revolution.  I’m for it and so be it and all that.  If we are to be dust, let Magnolia lead us home.  It might be the most relaxed we’ve been in this life since we cried upon entering.